


Help Me Make It Through the Night

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Frank and Sammy [2]
Category: Actors RPF
Genre: AU, Friendship, Hollywood Legends, M/M, Movie Stars, One Shot, Show Business, The Rat Pack, real person fiction - Freeform, singers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8259542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis, Jr. hammer out a relationship built on mutual respect and need.





	

**Author's Note:**

> To fill a request from kiism who wanted to read a story about Sammy/Frank.

Frank Sinatra stared at the tiny black man who looked more like a living teenage doll than a grown man. “You want to be a singer?” He asked softly.

“I AM a singer, Mr. Sinatra,” Sammy answered defiantly. “What I want is a chance to prove it.”

Sinatra stared at him without blinking, then turned to shake a cigarette out of a pack. “Yeah, you and every other kid that can carry a tune. Even some who can’t.”

Davis offered him one of his smokes.

Sinatra studied the kid, then accepted the smoke, then a light from Davis. Sinatra inhaled, then blew out a thin stream of smoke away from the skinny kid in front of him. “What makes you so special? How are you different? Besides being able to get past the doorman to this joint and two of my bodyguards without being stopped. How did you know which was my dressing room, anyway?”

Davis grinned. “The star on your door was twinkling at me.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” He studied Sammy through the cigarette smoke. “That’s the second question I asked. You didn’t answer my first. What makes you so special? How are you different?”

“I’ve been performing since I was three.”

“Three?! No shit! Three?! What were you singing then? Your alphabet?!”

“I wasn’t really singing. I was in a vaudeville act with my father and my uncle. I was called Silent Sam.”

“Silent Sam? Silent Sam sang?”

“Silent Sam danced.”

“So you’re really a dancer?”

“Yes, and no.”

Sinatra frowned. “You don’t know what you are?”

“Oh, I do. Nobody else does, though.”

Sinatra laughed. “Well, at least you’re honest.”

“And I’m a pretty good quick draw artist.”

“Not much call for that these days. Not unless you’re in a Texas standoff in Laredo.”

“Laredo?”

“Never mind.” Sinatra gave him a closer look: the delicate bones, the small frame, the almost feminine face beyond the scars. “What happened to your face?”

“Car accident. I hit the steering wheel. It messed up my face, and I lost an eye, too.”

Sinatra’s eyes went over him again. “Outside of that, not bad. You’re an awfully pretty kid, did you know that? Almost girlish.”

Sammy lowered his head. “I don’t do that anymore.”

Sinatra frowned. “Any what?”

“You know. There’s guys who like pretty boys.”

“Oh.”

“So I don’t do that anymore,” Sammy said with determination.

Sinatra gave him a flirty look. “You wouldn’t, even for me?”

“Well, if it was you--”

“That’s what I figured. Everyone eventually does, if they want to make it in this business.”

“I’d rather it wasn’t about that sort of thing.”

“Kid, it’s always about that sort of thing.”

“I want it to be about talent.”

“That other takes talent, too.”

“Mr. Sinatra, you’re deliberately being oblique!”

“I am? Should I punch you for that?”

Sammy grinned. “No.”

“Where did you come up with that word, anyway?”

“I heard you use it in a movie once.”

“Really? That wasn’t me. The writer should have been fired. How come you use big words like that?”

“I don’t. You frustrated me. It came out.”

Sinatra looked at him with new respect. “People don’t get frustrated with me. Didn’t you know that?”

“Yeah!” Sammy declared with false bravado, but sensing he could get by with it. “Well, I do!”

Sinatra grinned. “I can see that. I like you, kid. You got guts. Don’t know where you put them, though. You’re so tiny.”

“Well, so are you!”

Sinatra laughed. “How do you figure that?”

“You’re just stretched out taller, that’s all. When you stand sideways, though, your shadow disappears!”

“That’s an old vaudeville joke!”

“My daddy’s an old vaudeville joke! Just ask my mama!”

They grinned at each other in perfect understanding.

“Tell you what, kid,” Sinatra said softly. “Tell me what I can do for you, and I’ll try to help.”

“Just treat me the way you are now.”

“That’s it? Hell, that will be easy!”

“Well, you might let me headline with you in Vegas and star with you in a movie or two,” Sammy said sarcastically, knowing he was reaching.

“Done!”

Sammy looked stunned, then amazed. His dreams had been answered!

Sinatra began to laugh. “That was worth the set up, kid! You should have seen your face!”

“That wasn’t very nice, Mr. Sinatra.” He headed for the door.

“Hey! Where are you going?!”

“I won’t be the butt of any more of your jokes, either.”

Sinatra sobered. “That’s the second time you’ve told me off, kid.”

“Maybe you deserved it.”

“Nobody tells Sinatra off.”

“I didn’t want to. But, man! You gotta quit acting like you own the world!”

“But I do! At least my little corner of it.”

“Well, I hope that you enjoy your world. Me, I think you’re lonely in it.”

“Really? It shows that much?”

“Yes, man, it shows. I can hear it in your singing, too. I bet you didn‘t know that, did you?” Sammy could tell by Sinatra’s silence that he’d hit on the truth. “I can hear your need, and I understand. We’ve all felt lonely, and you just express it for us. That’s what makes you such a wonderful artist. You feel for the rest of us.“

“You’re a fan?“

“How in the hell could I not be?! You’re the greatest. I absolutely adore you.“ He broke the spell. “Well, maybe not you. Your singing, though, is blessed by Heaven. You must have been kissed by the angels in your cradle.“

Sinatra grinned. “Now you sound like my grandmother.“

“She was an astute lady then.”

“There you go with those words again! And don’t tell me that I said that one in a movie!”

They grinned at each other.

“Well, sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Sinatra. I‘ll be on my way. Nice to have met you. Legends always are.” He headed for the door a second time.

“Hey! Where you going?” 

“I’m not doing it again.”

“You misunderstood. I just said it was something seeing your face when I pulled that gag. But your face! It’s an open book. With expression like that, you could tell a story without opening your mouth. You’d be a natural in front of a camera. Interested?”

Sammy studied him.

“I know people who can help you.”

“I know.”

“You aren’t going to trust me, are you?”

“Would you?”

“I like you, kid.”

“You’ve said that.”

“You’re not impressed by me?”

“Oh, I’m impressed as hell! That’s why I walked in the door!”

“You walked in the door to use me!”

Sammy blinked, recognizing himself in what Sinatra said.

“Everyone does,” Sinatra said, turning aside. “But you got the other part right. I am lonely as hell.”

Sammy stared at him, knowing that he was seeing something rare. Sinatra was being honest with someone else and with himself.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“Well, it is what it is. Especially making it through the night. The wee small hours of the morning? They’re the worst. But forget that. I’ll help you, kid. You’ve got guts. I respect that. And you must have talent, or you’d be out driving a bus for a living by now. Come around to the studio. Leave your name. We’ll work you into the act somewhere.”

“Thanks.” Sammy knew he‘d been dismissed, but still he stood there. “What are you doing the rest of tonight?”

“That’s it. Get lost. You got what you wanted from me. You don't need to do anything more.”

“There’s a late show over at the Copa. Come see it with me.”

“They’d call me up onstage. Sometimes I just want to be entertained. Know what I mean?”

“We’ll sit in the shadows, then. Where else would you sit with someone my color?”

Sinatra straightened with resolution. “In the front row, Bucko. Where we both belong. Together.”

“And later. When it’s just you and me. We’ll make it through the night. Together.”

Sinatra frowned. "Are you sure? Awhile ago, you were against it.”

“I've changed my mind. So, whatever it takes,” Sammy vowed seriously. “I’ll be there. Whatever. I'll be a friend.”

“I know some other guys who are like me, too. They have trouble with the night and with people using them. They need friends, too.”

“We’ll invite them to join us.”

“They’re nothing but a pack of rats.”

“That’s fine. We’ll form a group with them.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that."

"Sometimes they like to do things, things like we've been talking about, if you know what I mean."

"That's okay. We can make that some of the special privileges of the members. It'll make us a tighter group, a brotherhood, so to speak."

"All of that sounds like good ideas. But first we got to make it through this night. Are you willing to see it through with me?"

"I said whatever, and I meant it. Don’t worry, Mr. Sinatra. I may be small, but I can keep you warm.”

“I bet you can. I‘ll be waiting to find out just how,” Sinatra said slowly. “Now for something serious. Which side of the bed do you prefer?”

Sammy grinned. “Whatever‘s left, Mr. Sinatra.”

Sinatra smirked as he gave him a flirty look. “Good answer. And, by the way, it’s Frank.”

“Really?”

“I have a feeling that’s all you’ll allow. Besides, last names will sound way too formal by morning.” He put a hand on Sammy’s shoulder. “Top or bottom?”

“Whatever is left, Frank.”

“Another good answer. I think we’re going to get along just fine, kid.”

“Remember that when we hit the hay. You might have a different opinion of me by the time the sun comes up.”

Sinatra looked at him with greater interest. “How about skipping the Copa and just going for the main action?”

“Whatever you say. You’re the boss.”

“Sure, I am,” Sinatra said in a tired voice. "I have a feeling that might change by morning, also."

But Sammy could tell that Frank’s interest was growing by the moment, just like the front of his trousers. Funny, Sammy thought to himself. That condition was catching. He seemed to be experiencing the same reaction as Frank. They'd better figure out fast who was top and who was bottom. The situation was becoming dire.

Then Sammy Davis, Jr. grinned his beautiful smile that lit up his twisted face into a thing of unusual beauty. It showed the world what a really large heart he possessed.

And tonight that heart belonged to Frank Sinatra. Sammy couldn’t have picked anyone finer or sweeter.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing of Frank Sinatra's estate or Sammy Davis, Jr.'s estate or of the song "Help Me Make It Through the Night."


End file.
